The Faded Photograph
by Poneh and Pony
Summary: Her life is perfect. Isn't it? She's got everything. But then she see's the picture.


Pony; Alright. This was written for a contest. I hope it's good. Please tell me what you think about it.

Seto: She doesn't own me or anyone from Harry Potter.

Poneh: Well said. We're too tired to type more so here it is

* * *

**'The faded photograph.'**

Sitting in the back of the room in her office, it was easy to loose her. Her hair, once unruly was now tamed and straight brown against her perfect blouse. Her skirts were never wrinkled. Nothing was ever wrong in her life. Nothing was ever exciting, either. In her hand, she held her eagle feather quill, the present she had just received for her birthday from the office. She was their star reporter and as such deserved the best. She covered when Dark Wizards tried to do things. She was even on first name terms with the Minister of Magic. In fact, she was on first name terms with nearly everyone in the ministry. And what was bad about that? Nothing. It was the perfect life. The dream life. Money to spare and fame.

"Time to go home." Someone stuck their head in her office and told her. She smiled and turned around.

"I'm coming, Mara. Just let me finish this story. Some fool tried to kill the Headmaster of Hogwarts." She typed a few more lines and hit the save button before powering down and walking out of her office, turning the light off after her.

"Let's split a cab fee." She said, following Mara out the door. Mara. Her neighbor, coworker, and best friend all in one. After getting a cab to stop, they both got in. Mara told the driver where to go before turning to her friend.

"Are you going to the party this weekend?" She asked.

"Yes. I'm reporting on it. Every time the minister throws a party for whatever reason I'm asked to report. I wish I'd just be asked for my company." She laughed harshly. "No. I suppose I'm not great company. Thirty years old and only one semi-serious relationship. And that was…" She stopped, eyes widening.

"I didn't know you'd ever been in a relationship." Her friend said, trying to get more information. "I thought you were born boring, Hermione. "The Daily Prophet" sure treats you that way."

"I was. It was a dream I was thinking of. Something I dreamed the other night about school." The cab pulled up to their destination and they both paid their share. After a quick goodbye, they went their separate ways.

Once inside, Hermione hung her coat on a rack and took off her shoes. Noticing the red flashing on her phone, she pressed the button and a hurried males voice sounded.

"I'm calling for Miss Hermione Granger. Hi Hermione, this is Bill Retalt and I'd just like to saw what a pleasure it was having you come and interview me. I'd just like to proof read that article before you send it in, though. My number…Well, you have my number. Bye." The tone sounded, saying her messages were empty. Sighing, she fell back into a chair, turning the television on.

She sat in the dark watching the T.V. for several minutes before she got the awful feeling she was missing something. So turning off the soap opera she was watching, she went to her room where a box of her old school things were. Going through them, she saw books she had read, her old wand that had been broken on her last day of school, and a faded picture.

She was in the motion of tossing the old photograph away when something caught her eyes. She saw herself sitting between two people. A boy with messed up hair and another boy, taller then the first, with flaming red hair. They all smiled at her and then at each other, talking though she couldn't hear it.

Harry and Ron. Those were their names. As if their names were the key to her lost childhood, a flood of memories came rushing back. Their first meeting on the train. Seeing Ron lying helpless on a giant chess board. Harry grinning broadly with a dark fellow…Sirius…patting his back. Viktor Krum at a winter dance. Harry carrying the body of a dead Cedric out of the maze. Sirius' funeral. Dumbledore's funeral. Harry's funeral. All within three years of each other. Then the night she said goodbye to Ron. The tears and the screaming. Then a flash of light and…nothing.

Her breathing was labored. She staggered back. The half life she had been living was pushed aside and reality was setting in. She clutched the picture to her chest, stumbling to get her shoes on. Leaving her coat behind. She got a cab and gave him the address she had quickly looked up before leaving. Once there, she handed the driver a large sum and stumbled out, not waiting for change.

She knocked at the door. Once. Twice. Three times. Then she heard a voice.

"I'm coming! Hold on!" The voice was so familiar she nearly passed out. How could she have lived without it. Without it holding her together.

"Who are…" He stopped as he recognized her. "Blimey. You're not…You can't be…Hermione?" His voice was hoarse and he stuttered.

"Yes. I'm so sorry Ron. Oh God am I sorry. I didn't know. If I'd known." She said, tears streaming down her face.

"Come…Come in. I was leaving but I can cancel." He motioned for her to walk inside. Once inside, she dropped the picture she had been clutching.

"I love you Ron." She said, the people in the faded picture seemed to smile as Ron turned around.

"I love you too, Hermione." He said. "I love you too."


End file.
